From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V5 #5 Reply-To: eda-thoughts@smoe.org Sender: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk eda-thoughts-digest Friday, February 1 2002 Volume 05 : Number 005 * If you ever wish to unsubscribe, send an email to * eda-thoughts-digest-request@smoe.org with ONLY * the word unsubscribe in the body of the email * . * PLEASE :) when you reply to this digest to send a post TO the list, * change the subject to reflect what your post is about. A subject * of Re: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #xxx or the like gives readers no clue * as to what your message is about. Today's Subjects: ----------------- ET: +fourth floor and a higher meaning+ ["Marty Wallgren" ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 31 Jan 2002 17:29:22 +0100 From: "Marty Wallgren" Subject: ET: +fourth floor and a higher meaning+ hello ya all with or without wings. here's one session, a bunch of wee poh-emms of mine. my inspiration is in dublin, ireland. this is from over there. my heart is over there. comments, feedback and critique or criticism warmly welcomed. :) hejsan from sweeden & take kare, marty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . : . silent tourist to visit jesus : . across cobble-stoned streets i rambled settled to find some peace there inside the walls of your temple secretly inhaling holy communion like a ghost on the other side of heaven churchyard seems to be the street with a name the same as one of her's my hands clasped and white of devotion i think i could feel her anaestethic breath her sleeping magnificence cocooned in oblivion i was there : . one hour developing : . wheeled up from the theatre room in your face no sign of the paler shade i must say that you emitted sparKs with your appearance that afternoon : . visitors hours : . how my heart sank that first evening i had to walk away security guards waving me out of the room leaving you to another morphine stream dublin by night through your windows a dog barking from across some distance me waiting under the stars and a battered busstop at along littered back streets in dolphin's barn the boy still glowing and aroused and amazed by miracles of bliss happening at your bedside walls painted with our love inside the hospital room that i tip-toed out of upon these nights some thirty minutes after eight thankful and very proud of my little hero : . uneven terrain and scattered rain : . devouring marshmallows and sausages a growing desert in my throat in this oasis you make for me i like to be still to memorize titles and names sleep-drunk and exhausted when will this headache cease i want to feel at ease please fill me in where amnesia leaves me dry and fumbling for a tatoo where all i need is you . . . : . old and grey : . our children have all moved out left here in this garden we are lovers and leftovers unbreakable and even sound bound across the bridge across forever night is now on every corner you and me - side by side a whispering lullaby tired old fingers still curiously combing through your hair many moons and seasons has passed our garden, our forest, the rivers too above and beyond our home this fragrant flower i hold in my hand before your eyes and your smile unlike the flowers' petals your beauty: will never fade : . ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 31 Jan 2002 18:47:13 -0000 From: "shivergirl" Subject: ET: unconsciously breathing air + the walls are anxious in themselves yet they whisper asylum in the pale blue silence where i sit watching a solitary horse out the window grazing at nothing on an upraised hill leaning myself out the distance to try and touch young profanity as it walks by in track-suit bottoms for there are no screens here to keep the obscenities out from darkening the green there are only manic-depressive faucets spurting hot and cold water that can never come together long enough to be lukewarm + no blinds to break the morning gently just night that loves arriving early and stealing afternoon away into a memory but i am being emotionally cushioned nonetheless in this scary trans-atlantic trek wanting to give up the urge to roam longing for home all too soon + the calmness of washing up making things clean again with a mournful girl singing in the background of what has been difficult but now exorcised through song just as the suds of thoughts dissipate on utilitarian plates my hands do not slip-slide so much these days they stack the pros for life instead as i let the leftover waste down the drain that's always been plugged up with a stubborn hanging-on in my head + + ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V5 #5 ********************************